GRANDMA? Part 1 (YA Zombie Serial Novel) by J.A. Konrath, Jack Kilborn, Talon Konrath Page B
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I hit the light switch on the wall, but it didn't work. I was supposed to have changed the light bulb earlier. Dad told me to, three times. But I was fishing off the pier and had forgotten.
"Josh?"
"Grandma's okay! She can walk and everything, Randall!" Josh's shrill voice rose through the darkness. "She can bake us her chocolate chip cookies like she always does, the ones with the Hershey's Kiss in the middle! She can garden again, just in time to harvest her cherry tomatoes! Grandma's okay!"
Josh was creeping me out. He sounded hysterical.
"Josh? You all right?"
"Come down here, Randall!"
I took a step down, squinting, seeing nothing.
"Grandma?"
"She's standing next to me!" Josh said. "Come down!"
I should have been rushing down there. Rushing down to Grandma and Josh, and then getting them out of there before the man in the closet got us. But it was really dark, and I was freaked out.
"Grandma?" I called.
Grandma didn't answer.
Flashlight. I needed a flashlight.
"Josh, I'll be right there."
I went back to the living room.
Where the hell did I put it? I had it last night when Josh and I were collecting pine cones for a pine cone fight. Did I leave it on the couch?
I threw the cushions aside, checking the inside of the sofa. A Cheeto—God knows how old—a quarter, some crumbs. I brushed off the fuzz and ate the Cheeto (turned out to be waaaay old), then went to the kitchen and began opening all the cabinets and drawers. I paused. My ears sharpened to—
Giggling?
My search quickened, shoving aside glasses and plates. Hands shaking, I found a box of light bulbs.
Forget the flashlight.
I went back to the basement door, clutching the light bulb box. The darkness giggled at me. I couldn't tell if it was Grandma or Josh or…
Or that weirdo from the closet. The one who looked dead. The one who bit my grandmother.
I wasn't stupid. Zombies weren't real. They were fictional, like vampires, and honest politicians. If I had to take a guess, it was a serial killer in the closet, made up like a zombie to scare people. Or some lunatic who thought he was one of the walking dead.
But it couldn't be a real zombie.
And he couldn't have got down in the basement so fast.
Right?
"Josh?"
My brother didn't answer.
I took a step, and the giggling stopped. I did, too. I pulled out my cell phone out of my shorts pocket, using the blue screen to see ahead of me, a foot at a time.
I took another step.
One more.
My arm flailed above my head to feel the ceiling for the dead light bulb.
There it is.
I quickly unscrewed the dead bulb, but I went too fast and it fell out of my hand.
Oh no…
The light bulb bounced on a step, then smashed somewhere near the bottom with a telltale tinkling sound.
I winced. I wasn't wearing shoes. My flip-flops were out on the pier, and my gym shoes were in the bedroom.
It'll be ok. Just be careful
I pinched the new light bulb from the two pack case and carefully screwed it in. I went to the light switch and flipped it on waiting for the nice glow of a white light.
But it didn't turn on.
I flipped the switch multiple times.
No light.
I reached up, making sure the bulb was in all the way. Bad bulb? Problem with the socket or switch?
I should have looked for the flashlight instead.
"Randall?"
It was a whisper, so soft I couldn't tell if it was Josh or Grandma.
Or someone else.
I'd heard the term skin crawl but didn't know what it meant until that moment. It meant you felt like you were covered with bugs because you were so afraid. The hairs on my legs, arms, and neck all stood up and wiggled. If the closet man was downstairs, I'd wet my pants.
But it could have been Josh and Grandma, needing my help.
I shook off my nerves and forced myself to act.
Ready or not, here I come…
I used my phone to light my descent, testing the stairs with my toes. I did NOT want glass in my foot. I remember when my Dad got a large piece in his heel, and he had to go to the ER where they had to
"Josh?"
"Grandma's okay! She can walk and everything, Randall!" Josh's shrill voice rose through the darkness. "She can bake us her chocolate chip cookies like she always does, the ones with the Hershey's Kiss in the middle! She can garden again, just in time to harvest her cherry tomatoes! Grandma's okay!"
Josh was creeping me out. He sounded hysterical.
"Josh? You all right?"
"Come down here, Randall!"
I took a step down, squinting, seeing nothing.
"Grandma?"
"She's standing next to me!" Josh said. "Come down!"
I should have been rushing down there. Rushing down to Grandma and Josh, and then getting them out of there before the man in the closet got us. But it was really dark, and I was freaked out.
"Grandma?" I called.
Grandma didn't answer.
Flashlight. I needed a flashlight.
"Josh, I'll be right there."
I went back to the living room.
Where the hell did I put it? I had it last night when Josh and I were collecting pine cones for a pine cone fight. Did I leave it on the couch?
I threw the cushions aside, checking the inside of the sofa. A Cheeto—God knows how old—a quarter, some crumbs. I brushed off the fuzz and ate the Cheeto (turned out to be waaaay old), then went to the kitchen and began opening all the cabinets and drawers. I paused. My ears sharpened to—
Giggling?
My search quickened, shoving aside glasses and plates. Hands shaking, I found a box of light bulbs.
Forget the flashlight.
I went back to the basement door, clutching the light bulb box. The darkness giggled at me. I couldn't tell if it was Grandma or Josh or…
Or that weirdo from the closet. The one who looked dead. The one who bit my grandmother.
I wasn't stupid. Zombies weren't real. They were fictional, like vampires, and honest politicians. If I had to take a guess, it was a serial killer in the closet, made up like a zombie to scare people. Or some lunatic who thought he was one of the walking dead.
But it couldn't be a real zombie.
And he couldn't have got down in the basement so fast.
Right?
"Josh?"
My brother didn't answer.
I took a step, and the giggling stopped. I did, too. I pulled out my cell phone out of my shorts pocket, using the blue screen to see ahead of me, a foot at a time.
I took another step.
One more.
My arm flailed above my head to feel the ceiling for the dead light bulb.
There it is.
I quickly unscrewed the dead bulb, but I went too fast and it fell out of my hand.
Oh no…
The light bulb bounced on a step, then smashed somewhere near the bottom with a telltale tinkling sound.
I winced. I wasn't wearing shoes. My flip-flops were out on the pier, and my gym shoes were in the bedroom.
It'll be ok. Just be careful
I pinched the new light bulb from the two pack case and carefully screwed it in. I went to the light switch and flipped it on waiting for the nice glow of a white light.
But it didn't turn on.
I flipped the switch multiple times.
No light.
I reached up, making sure the bulb was in all the way. Bad bulb? Problem with the socket or switch?
I should have looked for the flashlight instead.
"Randall?"
It was a whisper, so soft I couldn't tell if it was Josh or Grandma.
Or someone else.
I'd heard the term skin crawl but didn't know what it meant until that moment. It meant you felt like you were covered with bugs because you were so afraid. The hairs on my legs, arms, and neck all stood up and wiggled. If the closet man was downstairs, I'd wet my pants.
But it could have been Josh and Grandma, needing my help.
I shook off my nerves and forced myself to act.
Ready or not, here I come…
I used my phone to light my descent, testing the stairs with my toes. I did NOT want glass in my foot. I remember when my Dad got a large piece in his heel, and he had to go to the ER where they had to
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